The Billionaire's Ruin

Snap. I ripped the custom platinum bracelet bearing our engraved initials off her wrist.

Diamonds and cold, hard metal scattered across the marble floor, bouncing in every direction.

Just moments ago, this exact token of his promise—the one he swore he'd never take off—had been gleaming on this bottomtier waitress's wrist.

My billionaire fiancé abandoned our engagement party for a bottomtier waitress who vanished a year ago.

He left me standing there, clutching a worthless contract, the punchline to the entire city's cruelest joke. I ripped my hand from his grip. "The contract is void.

We're done." The billionaire heir, the man who was used to controlling everything and everyone from his high tower, clamped his fingers around my wrist.

His eyes were bloodshot. "I'll get it remade! I'll order a new one!

Just don't leave me!" Chapter 1 Today was supposed to be my birthday, the night we officially announced my engagement to Alistair to our circle of friends and family.

Instead, I stood alone. I was draped in haute couture, a massive diamond catching the chandelier's light on my left hand.

What should have been the ultimate symbol of a perfect union now felt like a glaring, mocking spotlight.

The forced smiles on both our families' faces finally cracked, and they had no choice but to kick off the birthday banquet without the groom.

Alistair's father barely suppressed his rage, his jaw tight. "Where the hell did Alistair run off to? Ditching Monroe's birthday party?

Has he lost his mind?" My best friend elbowed her way to my side, her voice tight with panic. "Monroe, try calling him one more time." I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, scrolling past a solid wall of unanswered calls.

A bitter, selfdeprecating scoff escaped my lips. Alistair wasn't picking up. He wasn't replying to my texts.

There was a time when I could call him at 3:00 AM, and he'd pick up on the first ring.

Every single birthday, he'd go out of his way to curate the most perfect, extravagant gifts for me. He was the heir to a billiondollar empire.

Everyone else walked on eggshells around him, terrified of breathing wrong in his presence, but I was the only one allowed to be reckless and spoiled with him.

He would always just run his hand through my hair, his voice soft. "You're the only one who could ever get away with treating me like this." But somewhere along the line, the ground shifted underneath us.

My chest tightened, a cold numbness spreading through my fingers as I tapped his contact name one last time. Finally, the call connected.

But it wasn't Alistair's deep voice on the other end. It was Vance, his secretary. Through the receiver, I could hear the sterile, echoing sounds of a hospital.

Vance sounded deeply uncomfortable, stumbling over his words. "Ms. Monroe… Mr. Alistair won't be able to make it tonight. You shouldn't wait up. It's Willow. She's back." Willow.

I mouthed the name a few times before my brain actually processed the syllables. The woman who vanished a year ago was back.

Just the mention of her name was enough to make anyone in Alistair's family sneer in sheer disgust.

After all, she was the one who slipped something into Alistair's drink at a gala just to drag him into her bed. It was cheap. It was dirty.

Who wouldn't look down on a pathetic stunt like that? In the beginning, Alistair was repulsed by her too.

He used to pull me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, his voice wrecked with exhaustion. "Monroe, I didn't want it.

Please, don't throw me away." How could I ever throw him away? All I felt was an overwhelming ache for him. I had seen the background check on that woman.

She was painfully average, dressed in cheap, knockoff fast fashion, burdened with a brother who desperately needed someone to pay his exorbitant medical bills.

If she hadn't been working as a bottomtier waitress at that gala, she wouldn't have even breathed the same air as someone like Alistair in this lifetime.

After that night, Alistair practically threw a stack of hush money at her in disgust, and I genuinely thought that chapter was permanently closed.

But the next chapter started twisting into something unrecognizable. Alistair began to change, slowly.

I would drag him out shopping, holding up dresses and asking for his opinion, but his eyes would zone out, glued to some plain, white dress on a mannequin.

I'd catch that flicker of something foreign in his eyes before he snapped back to his usual composed self, brushing it off. "It's nothing.

Just thought that dress looked nice." Nice? He didn't know the first thing about women's fashion. He always just agreed with whatever I loved. And I only wore bold, vibrant colors.

White was never in my wardrobe. My stomach dropped that day. I trusted my gut and had my assistant do some digging. A few days later, a stack of photos was dropped on my desk.

In those photos, that exact, exorbitantly expensive white dress was being worn by Willow. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer straight to the skull.

Chapter 2 I snapped back to reality, my throat parched.

I dragged my feet back to my place, desperate for just a second of silence to process everything, but the universe had other plans. Alistair was standing right outside my door.

I hadn't even gone looking for him yet, and here he was, delivering himself to my doorstep. He was leaning against his car, a slight crease between his brows.

When he saw me walking up, he just shot me this flat, indifferent look.

I forced a smile, but before I could even get a word out, he cut me off. "Did you force Willow to leave a year ago?" The smile froze on my face. Yes, I did.

But that was because I ran a background check and found out exactly what she was: a corporate spy. She only crawled into his bed to steal classified data.

His empire was already taking hits left and right back then, and I didn't want to add another massive headache to his plate. So, I handled it.

I met up with her privately, handed her a blank check, and told her to vanish from New York permanently. After she disappeared, Alistair found out the truth anyway.

He dragged the mastermind out of the shadows and systematically crushed their company into bankruptcy.

He was practically vibrating with rage back then, his jaw locked tight as he swore that Willow better pray he never found her.

So why did he look at me now like I was the villain in this story? "Yeah, I did.

What about it?" I dug my nails into my palms to stop my hands from shaking, forcing my voice to stay deadpan.

He let out a dark, breathless chuckle, the shadow over his eyes growing heavier. "And did you know that right after she left, she was suddenly buried in massive debt?" I froze, my throat tightening up like I had swallowed a handful of gravel.

I couldn't form a single word.

He was actually accusing me. "Do you honestly think I would stoop that low?" I wanted to press him, to demand an explanation, but the words died on my tongue.

The look in his eyes was terrifyingly cold. I had seen that exact look before.

Back in high school, when some guy wouldn't take no for an answer and cornered me, Alistair wore that exact same chilling expression right before he shattered the guy's leg in two places.

But right now, he was aiming that lethal, merciless stare directly at me.

I clenched my jaw, staring back at him with icy defiance, but hot tears still welled up, spilling over to crash against my haute couture gown.

The harsh lines on Alistair's face immediately fractured, his tall frame going rigid.

He could never stand seeing me cry. "I crossed a line… Monroe, stop crying." He reached out, his thumbs clumsily wiping at my wet cheeks.

His voice had lost its edge, replaced by a raw, panicked awkwardness.

I kept my eyes lowered, letting the overwhelming wave of grievance swallow my pride. "Are you throwing me away, Alistair?

You left me alone at the party to be the punchline for everyone.

Is our engagement just a piece of trash to you now?" My makeup was ruined, and that finally seemed to break whatever hold she had on him. "Tonight was my fault," he murmured, his chest rising and falling heavily. "I'll make it up to you.

I'll throw you another one in a few days, okay?" The whole thing was completely insane.

The private investigator I hired confirmed that Willow had drowned in debt shortly after leaving the city a year ago, and the shell company pulling the strings was somehow registered under my name.

But I had literally paid off her brother's mounting medical bills and handed her a fivemilliondollar severance package.

Why the hell would I waste my time trying to ruin her after she was already gone? I had cried like a pathetic mess that night, but it worked. Alistair's walls crumbled.

He pulled me into his arms and held me for hours, coaxing me inside and settling me into bed.

But later, while I was drifting in that hazy space between sleep and waking, I felt the mattress shift. He was trying to leave.

He knew I had terrible insomnia and was prone to night terrors. He used to stay anchored to my side, refusing to move an inch until I was deeply asleep.

But now, he was walking away. Where was he going? Back to Willow? I couldn't let him go back to her. Not tonight.

I blindly reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt, a fresh tear slipping from the corner of my eye as I feigned a sleepy, terrified whisper. "Alistair… don't leave me… I'm scared." His footsteps stopped dead.

He stood there in the dark for what felt like an eternity before he finally let out a heavy sigh and climbed back into bed.

Chapter 3 Over the next few days, whenever he tried to leave, I played the exact same card. It worked.

Alistair stayed glued to my side, personally overseeing every extravagant detail of our rescheduled engagement gala. His phone kept lighting up with the same unknown number.

He ignored it, his face a blank mask as he rejected the calls and flipped the device to silent.

But when he thought I wasn't looking, I caught him slipping out to the balcony, furiously typing out messages in the dark. I went through the motions of getting ready again.

Flawless makeup, a striking crimson haute couture gown. I hooked my arm through Alistair's, and we stepped onto the red carpet of the grand banquet hall.

But I never expected Willow to crash my engagement party. She was literally wearing hospital scrubs. Her face was sickly pale, her hair a chaotic mess.

She was standing right outside the towering entrance doors, desperately tugging at Vance's sleeve. "Vance, please! Just let me see him! Eli's condition is deteriorating again.

Can you please just help me?" Every single pair of eyes in the ballroom snapped toward the commotion, including Alistair's.

A heavy crease formed between his brows—he clearly hadn't anticipated this ambush. He shot Vance a sharp, authoritative glare, a silent command to get her out of there.

Willow started thrashing wildly against Vance's grip. I snapped my head toward my assistant. "What are you staring at?

Have security drag her out." My assistant scrambled, signaling a few suited guards who moved in, firmly gripping Willow by the arms and dragging her backward toward the exit while spitting out polite corporate warnings.

Alistair pulled his gaze away from the spectacle, his fingers tightening around mine as he tried to pivot me back toward the crowd. "Monroe, ignore it…" Without warning, an agonizing coughing fit ripped through Willow's chest.

It sounded like her lungs were tearing apart. One of the guards gave her a sharp tug, and her entire body went completely limp, collapsing onto the marble floor.

In that same breath, Alistair's fingers slipped from mine. I watched as he bolted toward the entrance like a madman, shoving the surrounding elites out of his way.

He dropped to his knees, pulling the fragile woman tightly against his chest, and roared at his security detail. "Get my private helicopter ready! Now!

Take her to the best hospital immediately!" After mechanically dealing with the fallout of my ruined engagement party, I drove straight to the hospital.

It was the most exclusive, stateoftheart private medical facility in the state—meaning it came with an astronomical price tag.

The first time I ever laid eyes on Willow, she was curled up on a filthy plastic chair in the crowded hallway of a rundown public clinic, washing down stale bread with tap water just to save a few pennies on her brother's medical bills.

And now? Now she was lounging in the penthouse VIP suite of a hospital that billed thousands a night.

The second I stepped into the sprawling suite, I saw Alistair aggressively pinching the bridge of his nose while listening to the attending physician. "Ms. Willow is stable.

Her collapse was triggered by severe, prolonged exhaustion and chronic anxiety. As for her brother, Eli…" the doctor stated.

Alistair let out a cold, mocking laugh, his dark eyes cutting straight to me. "I think it's time Eli gets a new Chief of Medicine. Wouldn't you agree, Monroe?

If a toptier specialist 'accidentally' prescribes the wrong medication, shouldn't they be stripped of their license?" The air in the room instantly turned toxic. "Alistair, what are you talking about?

Let's step outside and discuss this." "Discuss what?" Alistair's voice was dangerously low, a lethal hostility radiating from his posture. "I ran the financials.

I saw the massive wire transfers between your accounts and that specific doctor." "And what a bizarre coincidence—your family owns a controlling stake in this hospital.

Do I need to drag the man in here to testify, or are we done playing games?" My lungs constricted.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the fragile woman in the hospital bed beat me to it.

Willow, her lips trembling and devoid of color, weakly tugged at Alistair's custom suit sleeve. "Please, stop. Don't blame Ms. Monroe.

If I hadn't hit rock bottom, I never would have come back crawling to you.

I know I'm nothing but a burden…" Alistair grabbed her hand and tucked it roughly beneath the thick duvet, his jaw clenched tight. "Your hands are like ice.

Why the hell were you wandering around outside? Are you trying to land yourself in here for another six months?" His movements were harsh, driven by panicked frustration.

The loose sleeve of her hospital gown slid down, exposing her pale, delicate wrist. And resting right against her skin was that custom platinum bracelet engraved with our initials.

Chapter 4 I wasn't seeing things.

I had flown out to Paris to find a master artisan to custommake that piece, personally overseeing the diamond setting and waiting three agonizing months just to give him a unique, exclusive symbol of my commitment.

After I gave it to Alistair, he never took it off. If anyone even grazed it, all hell would break loose. And now, it was wrapped around Willow's wrist.

I let out a sharp, selfdeprecating scoff. "What?

Did you swap out your fiancée when I wasn't looking?" Alistair's jaw tightened, his displeasure thickening the air. "Monroe, I just took pity on her.

I'm helping her out, nothing more. Our engagement stands. There's no need for you to act like this." "Are you seriously telling me you don't trust me